On the Contrary, Mary
by zadyza
Summary: The Doctor, Amy and Rory attend a ball in Victorian England where Amy and the Doctor investigate some mysterious murders, and Rory meets an alluring girl named Mary. Set between "The Vampires of Venice" and "Amy's Choice".
1. Chapter 1

Rory leant against the TARDIS console, drumming his fingers impatiently and tugging at his bow tie. "I don't know how you put up with these things, Doctor," he muttered, "Bow ties. They're so uncomfortable."

"Yes, well, the Victorians didn't think so," the Doctor flicked his watch. "They had the right idea – bow ties. Very cool. Everybody wore them. And we want to look the part," he sucked in and blew out noisily. "How hard can it be to put on a dress? I vividly remember telling her to be quick."

Amy snorted from the top of the TARDIS stairs, and the boys both turned to see her in an emerald green corseted dress with a big skirt, her red, ringleted hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked positively Victorian. "Oh Doctor," she said, "You've obviously never had a proper girlfriend before, have you?"

Rory fumbled for words. Sometimes he just couldn't believe Amy was his, and a lot of the time he thought the fiancée of someone so beautiful should at least be able to speak when she entered a room, but quite honestly the most coherent thought he could come up with was that the TARDIS should land in Victorian England more often if it meant Amy would wear dresses like that.

The Doctor smirked up at her. "Come along, Pond. We're very late." She rolled her eyes and descended the stairs. "You have a time machine, Doctor. You don't know the meaning of the word late."

"Nevertheless, we should be going. I hate getting messages on my psychic paper – it means things are serious. We don't want to keep this one waiting. '_Help me, Doctor_,'… I wonder what's the problem." He offered Amy his arm, and Rory watched the two glide towards the TARDIS doors. He kicked himself mentally for not offering Amy his arm first. _Great, now people will think she's with the Doctor. As always._

"Come on, slowpoke!" Amy called back to Rory as the Doctor placed his hand on the doorknob, "It's 1838. This is Buckingham Palace. You don't want to miss Queen Victoria's coronation ball!" The TARDIS doors creaked softly as they swung open, and the Doctor and Amy Pond stepped lightly out into a world of chandeliers, corsets and champagne – Victorian England.

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><p>The party was already in full swing as Rory entered the palace ballroom. Couples waltzed around the room, spinning and whirling like tops, skirts billowing and boots clicking. The ceiling of the ballroom was as high as a small apartment block, and Rory had to steady himself as he stared up at its massive, gold-corniced expanse. People were accepting hors d'oeuvres and glasses of sparkling champagne from wait staff circulating among small groups of politicians, socialites, lords and ladies politely discussing the weather out of the way of the dance floor. Rory caught snippets of conversation as he wandered through them, hurrying to catch up with the Doctor and Amy - bits of, "Isn't she just beautiful?" and "Oh, but she is so young." He turned to stare up at the podium and saw the newly crowned Queen Victoria seated on her throne, gazing happily over the busyness. She was only young. <em>And she <em>is_ very beautiful, _Rory thought to himself.

Turning away from the podium, he saw that Amy and the Doctor, still arm in arm, had already found themselves a place in one of the small circles of socialisers. Everybody was already laughing at some joke made by the Doctor, and Amy was looking at him with that smile of hers that was the reason for Rory's life. Rory felt a pang of jealousy in his heart. That smile – those red lips, those sparkling eyes - was why he first fell in love with her. It was a special smile. A smile of love. He hated that more and more often now he'd caught her sharing it with the Doctor. And there she was, doing it again. He huffed under his breath and turned away, aiming for a row of empty chairs against the wall. The other two seemed happy enough without him. Surely they could find the person who sent the message by themselves. He would wait in the corner until the night was over and they wanted him. He didn't mind. He was used to this. Of course he didn't mind, really.

_I never mind, really_, he frowned to himself. He folded his hands together and began to wait.

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><p>The guests at the ball were, in Amy's eyes, properly boring. They were obviously all there because it was their job to be there, and they didn't seem to realise it was an incredible, one-of-a-kind occasion celebrating a legendary queen. From what they were laughing about, they all seemed to think Victoria was too young and too stupid to be their monarch. She was just a girl in their eyes. As a citizen of the future, all Amy could do was stare up at Victoria on her podium and see a strong, powerful, gracious Queen that would revolutionise Britain. And make her fail high school history. But Amy tried not to think about that.<p>

But the Doctor insisted that they talk to the dull guests. They needed to find out who has sent the message to the psychic paper, and the only way they could do that was by working the room and talking to every person. Amy pulled her gaze away from the Queen and back to reality in time to catch the end of the Doctor's joke – "but he was actually _Welsh_!" - and smile at him. The three elegant women surrounding them tinkled with laughter and their husbands guffawed.

"So tell us, Doctor – what do you do?"

The Doctor flashed his psychic paper. "Private Detective Smith. I've been notified of an unusual situation in the area and I'm just here to keep an eye on things. On behalf of Her Majesty, of course."

One of the men raised his eyebrows. "Something to do with all those murders?"

"Pardon me?" interjected Amy.

"Where have you been living, girl? People have been dying left right and centre – somebody's been ripping hearts out."

"Ripping hearts out?"

"Nobody knows how, but bodies have been found across the city. All missing their hearts."

The Doctor frowned. "Please excuse us." He nodded. "Ladies, gentlemen."

He pulled Amy away by the elbow. "Come on. We really have to find this person, right now. When there's a killer on the loose and somebody is sending for help at the same time… we can't take any chances."

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began slowly scanning the room with it. "Uhm – Doctor?" Amy asked, "What're you looking for?"

"I'm checking to see if there's anybody here who's abnormally afraid." Amy rolled her eyes. "Please, Doctor, your sonic screwdriver can't pick up emotions. It's just a machine." The Doctor raised his eyebrows at her. "You don't know the half of what my screwdriver can do, Pond." He sighed. "It's strange – everybody here seems perfectly normal. Nobody seems even remotely nervous. And nobody seems to have the technology on them to contact me via the psychic paper. But the TARDIS _said _the message was coming from here, from this very room. How can that be?"

"Doctor, people are staring. Put that thing away." Amy smiled at a handsome young waiter and took the glass of champagne he was offering. "Relax. I'm sure we'll find them. This is the world's poshest party! Have a drink, for goodness' sake."

The Doctor ignored her and continued to scan the room, making her groan and gulp at her drink. _This is going to be one loooong night,_ she thought.

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><p>Rory fumed. He'd been sitting by himself for at least twenty minutes. Amy would never have forgotten about him if they'd been at a <em>regular <em>party, back at home, _without _the Doctor. She would have come up to him and insisted that he ask her to dance. They would have danced, they would have laughed, they would have kissed, they would have gone home together…

But this wasn't a regular party and they weren't back at home, and the Doctor was there, which meant Amy had forgotten him, and he was alone. The weird third wheel. _And_ he had to wear this stupid bow tie. It was choking him.

He was so lost in his own musings that he jumped when a slight young woman plopped herself into the seat next to him. "It's not all bad, you know," she said.

"Sorry?"

"Your girl. Flirting with that man over there. You're obviously very jealous of him, and so you should be. But look on the bright side – she's giving you the freedom to do your own flirting! Have a bit of fun rather than sitting in the corner and sulking!"

Rory stared. "Um, I'm sorry – who are you?"

She had long blonde hair pulled up into a bun, a half-sneer on her face, a twinkle in her eye, a little waist and – Rory couldn't help but notice – a fairly substantial pair of boobs. "Oh, sorry, sweetheart. I forget sometimes that people don't notice me as much as I notice them. I'm Mary." She leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Like the Virgin."

Rory's breath caught in his throat. "Um, hi." He decided that he liked Mary. Silence hung in the air as he searched for something not-stupid to say.

"Well, are you going to make this difficult or am I going to have to force it out of you?" She smiled. "Tell me _your_ name, Mister Mute!"

"Oh – yeah – sorry – I'm Rory. Rory Williams."

"Well then, Rory Williams. Shall we have a dance? You can tell me all about why you're jealous of that man over there with your fiancée. It's good to get things like that off your chest." She jumped up and Rory gaped up at her, still a little taken aback at her abruptness.

Mary laughed. "Come _on_! Are you going to open up to me? She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Or will I have to rip your heart out to get you to do it?"

Rory smiled and let her pull him into the whirl of the dance floor.

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><p><strong>Reviews would be so lovely. It's my first fan fiction, I need all the help I can get! Thank you for reading!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Rory didn't know a lot about romance, but at least he knew how to dance. He cringed as he remembered his mum dragging his 14-year-old self to her ballroom dancing lessons. His parents split up when he was little, so his mum didn't have a partner like all the other couples there. She'd forced him to join her every week. His school friends had never let him forget it, Amy in particular. It'd been one of the reasons she thought he was gay for so long. Rory had never thought he would have to use what he'd learnt, but now he silently thanked his mother for torturing him all those years ago. It had been worth it, apparently, in the end.

He spun Mary around the floor like a dervish, her blue skirt billowing. Rory expertly steered her through the throng so they didn't knock into the other dancers. People stared as they careered past, her peals of tinkling laughter filling the air. They whirled and whirled until Mary patted his chest and gasped, "Stop, stop…!" through her laughter. They staggered off the dance floor, slightly dizzy, and fell into the same chairs they'd been sitting in before, panting a little. "You, sir, are a surprise," she smiled.

Rory grabbed two glasses of champagne from a waiter and handed one to Mary. "You don't know the half of it – see my friend over there?" He waved his glass in Amy and the Doctor's general direction.

"Your fiancée?"

"Nah, the weird guy standing next to her."

"The one with the tweed coat and – what exactly is that thing he's holding?"

"Yes, him. His name's the Doctor. And that's his _sonic screwdriver_." Rory rolled his eyes. "Don't even ask."

"What's so surprising about him?"

"He's a sort of… detective. And a scientist. But stranger. I don't know how to explain him." Rory gulped from his drink. Mary looked at him with her blue eyes. "Can you try to, though?"

"What?"

"Try to explain him. He looks interesting to me. And he must be something important if you're so jealous of him. And you are jealous, aren't you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"He's nothing important, it's just sometimes him and Amy… she likes him a lot, I think."

"Go on then, tell me about him! What does he do? He looks so interesting and – "

"He's not interesting, Mary. I shouldn't tell you anything about him."

"Pleeeeeeeeeease…?"

"No, OK? He's nobody. OK?"

Mary swallowed and looked away from him. "Fine. I don't care anyway." Rory turned to look at her and saw the hurt in her eyes. "Hey… hey. I'm sorry. I just don't really want to talk about him. I'd much rather talk about you." He put his hand on top of hers and squeezed, just like he would to Amy if she was upset. She looked down at their hands and smiled.

"I'd rather talk about _you. _Tell me about you. How old are you? What do you do? I bet you're more interesting than the Doctor ever will be. Cuter, too."

Rory grinned. "I doubt it. But thanks." He launched into his life story, hoping as he went that she wouldn't catch the differences between his life in the twenty-first century and the realities of life in the nineteenth. He laced his fingers between hers.

He liked how she looked at him. For now, Amy didn't matter so much.

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><p>Amy was bored, and on her second glass of champagne. She sat by the wall, fiddling with her necklace and frowning at Rory, who was dancing on the other side of the room with some blonde girl. He looked like he was having fun. It wasn't fair, he never danced with her like that. They only ever danced at nightclubs and parties, and all that ever involved was jumping up and down. And the Macarena. They frequently danced the Macarena.<p>

How long had it taken him to make a friend? Half an hour? Maybe an hour? And here she was, stuck with the Doctor. She looked over at him and quickly looked away, embarrassed. He was putting his ear to the wall, listening for God knows what. She loved him, but this was a _party_, and she wanted to have _fun. _Like Rory. She wished she could go over and dance with him, but he looked preoccupied with that _girl. _Who _was_ that, anyway? Who did Rory think he was, dancing with another girl? She found herself bubbling up with jealousy.

_Hm._

She stood up, leaving her empty champagne glass behind, and walked past the Doctor over to a group of fine, wealthy women chatting with their balding, middle-aged husbands.

"Good evening ladies, good evening gentlemen," she did a small curtsey. "I was just wondering, see that woman over there, dancing, the blonde one? Do you know who she is?"

The women gaped at her in derision. "How dare you interrupt us, young lady?" The eldest, most haughty-looking one squawked, "We do not even know you! How very rude. Get out of my sight!" Amy rolled her eyes and strode away, swiping another glass of champagne as she went. These old-fashioned manners were wearing her thin.

She walked slowly around the circumference of the room, the bratty socialites already drunkenly forgotten. She eyed Rory and the girl, who had finished dancing and collapsed into their chairs, and harrumphed under her breath. Suddenly, she felt somebody standing behind her, and turned to see the husband of the rude woman who had shooed her away. He was a rotund, cheerful-looking, middle-aged man that reminded her of her favourite uncle. "I'm sorry about my wife, missy, she means well," he said with a wide smile. Amy looked him over and frowned. "What do you want?"

"I thought you wanted to know about that blonde woman. I think I know who she is, missy."

Amy stared and the man motioned her over to the seats by the wall. "It doesn't really make sense to me," he whispered, "But she looks just like someone I once knew, a long time ago…" he hesitated. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you. She was a… prostitute. Her name was Mary. But listen, missy, this was a twenty years ago. She should be my age by now. Maybe it's her daughter. But she looks so similar… it doesn't make sense. And why would she be _here_, how _could _she be here…?" He trailed off.

Amy suppressed a giggle. In her drunken state the man just seemed silly. A whore, at this party? He couldn't be more ridiculous. And old people didn't look that pretty. They just didn't. But she didn't really care who the girl was anyway, when it came down to it. _Know what? _she thought to herself, _if Rory wants to be with someone else tonight, I'm going to be with someone else tonight._

Amy thanked the man vaguely and walked over to the Doctor, who was talking intently with a waiter. She tapped him on the shoulder, and when he turned to look at her she wrapped her arms around his neck. "So. Have we found them yet, sweetie?" She stumbled over the last word and flashed him a lopsided, tipsy smile. "No, but I did find out that the waiter I was talking to has a big crush on Lord Melbourne," he replied.

She giggled and cinched her arms tighter around him. "You should take a break from looking, Doctor. Spend some time with me." She pressed her forehead against his. "Come on. We can dance if you want to." He pulled his head back to look into her eyes, a furrow inching across his brow. "Amy… is something wrong?" he murmured in genuine concern. "You're acting very strange."

"No, Doctor, nothing's wrong. I just want you to pay attention to me. I'm a bit bored." She batted her eyelashes up at him. "Come on, just one dance?" She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him towards the floor, but he pulled her back. "Amy, I'm not going to dance with you, not here. Rory wouldn't like it," he frowned. Amy let go of his arm and glared at him. "Fine, I'll find somebody else to dance with. Who cares about you?" she stomped off in a huff. There were a hundred attractive bachelors here, she didn't need the Doctor. _More champagne, _she declared to herself.

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><p>"You are so funny!" Mary laughed at Rory's joke, he suspected more out of pity than anything else. "Please excuse me, though, I have to powder my nose. Hold my champagne?" She smiled at him as she stood and walked towards the ladies'. Rory was left to sit alone for a minute and survey the ball. Something dropped in his stomach when he looked around and spotted Amy with her arms around the Doctor, foreheads pressed together. He clenched his fists around the champagne glasses and quickly looked away, not wanting to see any more. He knew that they liked each other, but he never would have thought that they would actually do anything. He couldn't believe Amy. He could handle the constant flirting, but it was obvious now that she and the Doctor had been going behind his back. Had they been kissing just now? He reckoned so. Rory burned with jealousy.<p>

Wallowing in his own misfortune, he barely noticed that Mary had come back from the bathroom. "Ro-ryyyyy?" She waved a hand in front of his face, making him jump. He grinned up at her. "Hello," he said, an idea crossing his mind. If he left the party with Mary and didn't come back to the TARDIS until morning, it would give Amy a shock. She would worry herself sick if she thought he was with another woman. Maybe it would bring her back to Earth, with him. And it wasn't like he would ever _actually_ sleep with another woman or anything – he wasn't a total bastard. All he had to do was make her _think _that he was off sleeping with Mary. It was worth a try.

"Mary," he stood up and took her hand, "How about we go and explore a bit? This party's dull and I'm sure there are some nice rooms around this palace that nobody's appreciated in a while." Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "All right, sweetheart. We might get in trouble…" she leaned in and whispered in his ear, "But I'm up for it if you are." He grinned and tugged her away, leading her out a side door. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody important had seen them, and nobody had – nobody except Amy, standing alone in a corner with a glass of champagne, a stunned look of hurt painted across her face. Rory's eyes met hers and he felt a flash of guilt, but determinedly pushed it away. He had to stick with the plan, he told himself, but he paused in the doorway and looked at her for a second. She was beautiful. But Mary tugged urgently on his sleeve, and he ripped his gaze from Amy and hurried out after her.

He shut the door behind them with a click.

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><p><strong>Sorry for the slow update. More coming soon. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Reviews are always more than welcome.<strong>


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